


his master

by SanzangsFavoritePeach (Watermelonslibrary)



Category: Xi You Ji | Journey to the West - Wu Cheng'en
Genre: Fantasizing, Gen, I did not proofread this so if there’s an error just squint, Masturbation, just a lonely monkey getting off, pacing is nonexistent, super short nsfw fic nothing too explicit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:21:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28442349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Watermelonslibrary/pseuds/SanzangsFavoritePeach
Summary: The group finally gets a break and Wukong makes the most of it
Relationships: Sūn Wùkōng | Monkey King/Táng Sānzàng | Tripitaka
Comments: 1
Kudos: 26





	his master

**Author's Note:**

> Don’t condemn me for this but—

Peace was rare on their travels. A time to rest was something each pilgrim cherished even if the time was short, and finally they were given a calming break from the chaos of their travels. 

Bajie fell asleep immediately, taking the opportunity to nap to his heart's content. Wujing found a nearby stream to wade in and explore. Bai Long Ma simply grazed and stretched his limbs, grateful for a break from carrying so much weight. Sanzang settled down to read his sutras, but Wukong had a different plan in mind. 

He decided to take a risky chance and stray a bit away from the group, finding a comfortable spot tucked away as a shallow divot in towering rock. The night was falling quickly, the only sound around the monkey was the calming song of cecadas and his own breathing. 

He settled his back against the cave wall so that he was facing the entrance, and began his work. 

Wukong gently pulled the silk shirt out from the hem of his tiger skin skirt and began kneading at the flesh of his stomach. It was toned and solid, muscle strained over bone, scars littered the golden skin marking each event of his life. His fingers trailed down his torso to his hip and began teasing at the hem of his skirt. He pulled the skirt, untying it to reveal the trousers he had under and a tent at his crotch. He shivered as a breeze blew into the small cave. 

Eager to feel something, Wukong slipped one hand into his pants and brushed his fingers over his already solid member. His breath hitched in his throat and his head lolled back, knocking against the rock behind him. He closed his eyes and allowed his mind to wander. 

Soft, supple skin, far softer then his. Pale and clear yet flushed with the blush of arousal. Clay colored robes discarded, legs parted slightly, lips glinting with spit… 

Wukong wrapped his calloused fingers around his member and gave it a solid pump, his hips jerking up at the stimulation. His mind raced to supply him with images of the only thing Wukong could  _ truly  _ want— 

Tang Sanzang. Beautiful face, perfect body, round in all the right places, ivory skin that showed no scars or abuse,  _ his master.  _

Wukong gasped as he glided his thumb over his tip, brushing the bead of precum off the top and giving a few more full pumps before lifting his hips to thrust into his own fist. 

Wukong let his imagination wander further, letting himself indulge in the fantasy of being able to watch his master—  _ his master _ — pleasure himself. 

He imagined the monk’s nimble fingers tremble and pinch at his erect nipple as soft gasps left his plump lips. Wukong had seen the man nude before, he had seen his plush body and soft hips, his supple thighs and oh so pale skin. 

He imagined that Sanzang would grind into his own hand in a novice and needy attempt to get off, jerking his hips and biting his lip as the sensations of pleasure overtook him. 

Wukong became slightly more erratic in his movements, his thrusts became random and shallow as he shoved his fingers in his mouth in an attempt to stifle his moans. 

He imagined that Sanzang would cry out and whine with every pleasurable movement, that he would squeeze his eyes shut and grasp his own plush breast as he neared his peak. 

He imagined the holy man’s body would jerk and shake as he came, legs trembling and hips rutting shamelessly against his own hand as he rode himself though the orgasm. 

His master. His master.  _ His master.  _

Wukong’s climax hit harder than he had expected. His fist clenched around himself and he cried out, thrusting a few more times into his closed hand to overstimulate himself to the fullest extent he could. He slumped back and let the last prickle of his orgasm wash though his body. 

Once the high had died down Wukong pulled his hand out of his pants and grimaced at the mess he had made. 

Now he had to wash and dry his pants by tomorrow morning. 


End file.
